


Creature of Habit

by mezzo_cammin



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-27
Updated: 2019-01-27
Packaged: 2019-10-17 14:07:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17561867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mezzo_cammin/pseuds/mezzo_cammin
Summary: Rodney isn't moving in. He's just kind of invading John's personal space. With his stuff.





	Creature of Habit

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 'Changes' prompt at Story_Works on DW.

“Just – just hold on a damn minute,” John says. He sets his jaw, places his hands on his hips and narrows his eyes at Rodney McKay.  Rodney pauses, his back to John, then straightens his shoulders and continues unpacking his overnight bag. He pulls out two t-shirts and a pair of boxers, yanks open a drawer in John’s (John’s!) chest of drawers, shoves aside a pile of socks, and places the clothes beside them. Neatly.

All that’s left now are his toiletries. He carries the black zippered bag into the tiny bathroom, John right on his heels, and stands in the doorway, head cocked to one side as he stares at John’s militarily precise arrangement of toothbrush, toothpaste, dental floss, hair gel, razor blade, shaving cream and hand soap on the counter beside the sink. He “hms’ under his breath, and John prepares himself mentally for a showdown.

Rodney, however, is busy opening and closing the medicine cabinet, the single drawer on the right of the sink, and then the door to the vanity, all of which contain John’s things. Things he has collected over the years and things he has thrown in there when he couldn’t find a place for them elsewhere. Things both personal and valuable, impersonal and utterly useless, but still, his things.

Rodney clenches the bag tightly before he unzips it, takes out a red toothbrush and places it in the holder beside John’s. Then he zips the bag back up and stalks over to the bed, where he sits down and stares at John, expression as stubborn and mulish as John has ever seen it. And he has seen Rodney McKay’s face in every variation of stubborn and mulish that exists. Jaw set, chin raised, eyebrows drawn together. Mulish.

Rodney taps his fingers against the bag in a syncopated rhythm John recognizes. He’s not sure if Rodney realizes exactly what he’s doing with his index fingers and thumbs, but John heard that tribal beat at the harvest festival two nights ago and Rodney has been drumming it, consciously or not, on multiple surfaces since then. It brings back memories.

John clears his throat.

“So,” he says, “You’re just…moving in?”

They haven’t talked about this. Well. Not in those terms, exactly.

Rodney’s fingers still.  His expression goes from mulish to disconcerted. “No,” he says slowly, voice going up at the end like the word is a question instead of an answer.

“No?”  He can’t help it. His eyes move toward the closet, where Rodney’s uniform now hangs, then to the chest of drawers, then to the bathroom, then back to the bed where Rodney sits, staring at him.

“It’s a change of clothes and a toothbrush,” Rodney says. His chin lifts another degree. He places the bag on the bed beside him and crosses his arms against his chest, fingers tapping against the bulge of his biceps.

John’s mouth waters.  He swallows, clears his throat again.

Rodney is uncharacteristically silent. He tilts his head, and the look he gives John is eerily similar to the one the T-rex in Jurassic World gave the locking mechanism on the gate. Fuck. John is so, so screwed.

“Well, that’s – that’s good. Fine. Practical.” He nods, takes a step toward the bed, toward Rodney, and then stops, raises a hand to the back of his head.

Rodney snorts.

“What?” John asks. He knows he’s acting like an idiot. Acting like a change of clothes and a toothbrush is a life-changing event, but- well, it kind of is, as far as he’s concerned..

“I was going to say, c’mon over here, I don’t bite,’ Rodney says, patting the bed beside him, “but then I remembered that I do, actually. Bite, that is.” He’s blushing, just a little, and John watches the rise of color to his cheeks, fascinated. He’s seen Rodney flush with anger before, turn almost purple with frustration. More recently, he’s seen him turn red all the way down his chest with the force of his orgasm. He’s never seen him blush with embarrassment, though. It’s almost…cute.

He sits down next to Rodney and bumps his shoulder. “I liked it.”

Rodney’s hand lands on John’s thigh. “Yeah, I, um…I did, too.”

John takes Rodney’s hand in his, squeezes it. “Sorry I freaked out.”

“Well, it’s, um, kind of a big deal, I guess?” Rodney leans some of his weight against John’s shoulder.

John shifts a little closer, realizes that Rodney’s toiletry bag lies on the bed between them, and picks it up. It’s heavier than he’d expected.

“Oh! I, uh… .” Rodney tries to snatch the bag away. John turns so that his back is to Rodney and unzips the bag, ignoring Rodney’s exasperated groan. Jumbled inside is a razor, a can of shaving cream, a small bottle of aftershave lotion, some condoms, and a very large container of lube. The good stuff.

John shakes everything out, including toenail clippers and a nose hair trimmer. He places the condoms and lube in the top drawer of the night stand on his side of the bed. And isn’t that a…a thought, right there. His side of the bed. The rest of it he takes into the bathroom and places alongside his own. He has to move a few things closer together to make room, but he does it, and everything lines up nice and neat.

He turns and almost bumps into Rodney, who has come up behind him, barefoot now.  Rodney places his hands on John’s upper arms, steadying him. John grabs Rodney by the hips, and it seems the most natural thing in the world to lean in, kiss Rodney’s smiling mouth, start walking him back toward the bed.

Rodney goes willingly, and when the back of his knees hit the mattress he flops backwards, spreads his legs so John can fit between them. John follows him down, pressing kisses to his jaw, his mouth.

Suddenly, it doesn’t seem like such a big deal after all.


End file.
